The Attendant in the Horror Game C70

Chapter 70

“Huh?”

Jade’s voice slipped out in an odd pitch as he repeated the question reflexively. For a moment he thought he had misheard. To be thinking of Ian and then to suddenly hear his name—something about it struck him strangely.

In the past ten years, Jade had not once heard Ian’s name spoken by anyone else. He had considered it fortunate. At the very least, it meant nothing bad had happened to Ian.

“What’s wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing….”

A brief silence settled between them. Since Jade was visibly flustered, Den set down the apple he had been eating and stared at him, bewildered. Jade’s awkward smile, paired with the way he waited for Den’s next words, made his discomfort painfully obvious.

“Really, it’s nothing.”

Jade’s gaze wavered left and right. He didn’t even know himself why simply hearing Ian’s name shook him this way.

All they had ever shared was four months together as a young master and his attendant. They weren’t close like friends or brothers. Rationally speaking, the bond they had built in the villa had been born out of survival, not sentiment.

Even so, Jade sometimes recalled—like a lingering habit—the day he left Ian at the temple. At the time, Jade had thought himself an adult. Looking back now, he had been nineteen, barely past boyhood.

Even after ten years had passed, he believed it had been the best possible choice. There had been no safer place than the temple. And according to the original storyline meant for Jade and Ian, their encounter was supposed to be a mere week. That brief encounter had stretched to four months; it had to end somewhere.

If he were to go back and choose again, Jade would still have left him there. It was the only way to keep Ian safe while cleanly severing their ties.

But every so often, the thought arose—what if Ian had waited for him? A ridiculous thought, but whenever it came, it left behind a faint stain of guilt.

Back in the north, Jade had projected far too much of his own childhood onto Ian. That was part of why he had treated Ian with such uncharacteristic kindness.

On the day he left, Jade had lied and said he would return soon. Perhaps it was because he remembered his own parents vanishing without a word.

‘He’s not the type to wait for anyone. It’s fine.’

The Ian he knew—the Ian from the game—was not someone who clung to others. There was no reason to feel guilt or worry about his wellbeing.

“Jade, you’re acting weird today.”

Den called out, watching Jade’s absent-minded expression with a teasing smirk.

“What, did you get into trouble?”

“…….”

Jade tried to laugh it off, but the denial he meant to speak wouldn’t come. Faced with Den’s joke, he couldn’t truthfully say “no” right away.

Had he done something wrong? Had his choice back then truly been the right one? Jade rarely agonized over decisions—but on this matter, he had no certainty.

“Seriously, what’s up with you? Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick. You know I turn into a corpse if I don’t sleep enough.”

He forced an awkward grin and brushed off the concern. Then he pointed toward his kitchen, lined with baking tools, as if that explained everything.

“I was thinking of a new menu all night. Probably just tired.”

“Ah. Yeah, that happens.”

“So anyway, why were you asking about Ian Linwood?”

Jade gently guided the conversation back, pretending to revisit Den’s earlier question casually. Why had Den brought Ian up? It had been so long since Jade last heard that name that tension had crept up before he realized it.

“Well, I was wondering if you’ve ever met him. The original heir of the Linwood family.”

“No.”

The answer came instantly—clean, decisive. Even Sun-dol, sitting nearby, rolled his eyes at how smoothly Jade lied.

He couldn’t afford to act as if he knew him. If Den asked further, Jade had nothing he could safely say. The Ian he remembered was likely the most defenseless version of Ian anyone would ever see. Talking about him would only expose vulnerabilities. And besides, all he had ever been was a temporary attendant ten years ago.

“Too bad. They say he’s really handsome.”

“Handsome? Who said that? Someone actually saw Ian Linwood?”

The moment Ian’s appearance became part of the conversation, the implication was clear—someone had seen him. Jade blurted his questions too fast, too urgently.

“One at a time, calm down.”

Den scratched his ear, puzzled by Jade’s unusually impatient reaction. The way Den carried himself made it clear this wasn’t bad news. At the very least, nothing tragic had happened to Ian.

“You didn’t hear? The former duke’s son—missing for over ten years—returned to the household.”

“Really?!”

The pitch of Jade’s voice shot up like a startled bird. He coughed and corrected his tone, but his eyes were wide. And no wonder—according to the original storyline, Ian wasn’t supposed to return to the Linwood estate for another three years.

A year early would be understandable; three years was an enormous shift.

“They say he’s likely to become the next head of the family. The north is all stirred up over it.”

“I see.”

Relief poured through his voice, so obvious even he himself heard it. Ian had survived. For ten years, he had been fine. Jade let out a long breath and pressed a hand to his chest.

Ian was a character who grew up in solitude. Jade had pitied the abandoned child and reached out to him, but he had always feared that his four months with Ian might have disrupted the hardships Ian needed to evolve.

But if Ian was returning to take up the title of head—his story was on the correct path. Jade was genuinely, wholeheartedly relieved.

The stiffness in his shoulders melted. The weight he had carried for a decade lifted all at once.

“Anyway, relax now. The duke’s position is changing—why would Linwood bother hunting for you anymore? Malderick’s definitely dead. The payments to the mercenaries stopped ages ago.”

It was true. After Malderick went missing four years ago, all mercenary payments ceased. Even after learning this, Jade hadn’t let his guard down—but now there was finally no reason to keep running.

“Thanks for telling me. I really feel relieved now.”

Still in a daze, Jade rubbed his cheek and sank onto the bed. His long flight was finally over. And Ian… Ian had risen to the position meant for him. With the worry gone, Jade felt an unfamiliar lightness settle in his limbs.

“Haha! You’re a free man now!”

Laughing heartily, Den stepped toward the kitchen, where Jade’s freshly baked bread sat cooling in neat rows.

Recently, Jade baked every morning. In the late afternoon, he would carry the bread to the harbor—and it would all sell out instantly. Yesterday, he didn’t even have time to set up his stall before everything was gone. Some customers had even scolded him for not bringing more.

“Oh? Bread! Can I eat some?”

Den eyed the loaves hungrily. Jade, still lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, didn’t answer until Den clapped loudly beside him.

“Jade!”

“Huh? Oh—sorry, wasn’t listening. What’d you say?”

“Can I eat the bread?”

By the time he asked, his mouth was already full. Smiling faintly, Jade waved a hand.

“Go ahead. Eat as much as you want.”

“You’re insanely good at this, you know that? You sure you’re not blessed by some baking god or something?”

Den shoved an entire baguette into his mouth and grabbed another. He devoured several pieces before Jade could blink, praising each bite fervently.

In Ardel, bread varieties were limited—mostly baguettes and rough rye loaves that people ate more for sustenance than taste.

So Jade had gone for a niche strategy. Without straying too far from local preferences, he integrated popular Korean bakery techniques.

Since local bread was dry, he increased the milk content for softer loaves. For baguettes, he spread garlic butter made from minced garlic, sugar, and parsley. Though he had been worried at first—because it was unlike anything this region served—he trusted his skill. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was bread.

And the results proved him right. On the first day, people eyed the unfamiliar bread curiously before buying a piece or two. By the second day, everything sold out in minutes. Within a week, if Jade arrived a little late, customers would raise an uproar.

“Damn, today’s batch is insane. This is crazy.”

“You say that every time.”

Back when Jade wandered the south from town to town, he would sometimes share fresh bread with Den and Cali. And every single time, Den’s praise bordered on theatrical. He would raise his thumb and react as if blessed by heaven.

“Try the one next to it too.”

Jade pointed to the loaf beside the baguette—today’s menu was garlic baguette and almond chestnut milk bread.

He liked offering a new item each day. Since everything he made sold out, he had the freedom to experiment. Some regulars even grabbed his hands and begged him to bake their favorite again the next day.

“Today’s gonna be huge. If this doesn’t sell out in five minutes, I’ll dip my hand in jam.”

“Mya…?”

Den stomped around as he ate, and Sun-dol approached curiously. Sun-dol always lost his senses when eating Jade’s bread. With a laugh, Den tore off a piece and fed it to him.

“You little glutton.”

“Myak!”

Sun-dol readied his claws indignantly at being called a glutton, but one more piece of bread calmed him immediately. And once Sun-dol was eating, Parang toddled over as well. Watching the little creature waddle, Den tilted his head.

“Huh? Didn’t he grow a bit since last time?”